


The Right Spots

by thatsakitkat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Freckles, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Teasing, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsakitkat/pseuds/thatsakitkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam really likes Dean's freckles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Spots

**Author's Note:**

> happy!au ^.^
> 
> kink meme prompt fill.
> 
> [i'm on tumblr](http://thatsakitkat.tumblr.com/)

"Try to sneak up on me huh?" Dean laughs playfully as he blasts Sam with the hose, soaking his chest and hair. Barely gets a flinch since it's so damn hot, but Sam skirts out of Dean's eyeline and behind him.  
  
He plasters himself to Dean's back, wrapping an arm low around his torso. "Done?" Sam asks, teeth and breath at Dean's neck. He smells like lemonade and his fingers are smearing remnants of purple popsicle juice over Dean's white t-shirt.  
  
"I gotta dry her," Dean sighs, hosing off some suds he sees in the Impala's grill. He lets the hose run over his feet and leans back into Sam, who brings his other hand up to clutch over Dean's chest, bunching his fingers in the soaked, see-through shirt.  
  
"Let her dry in the sun," Sam murmurs, pressing into his ass and sucking the skin under his ear.  
  
Dean's eyes fall under the attention. He rests his head back on Sam's shoulder and closes them. "You know I can't do that Sammy, she'll get spots," he says, hoarse.  
  
"Please?" Sam has one of his nipples now, stiff from the cold water. He's rolling it through the shirt between his middle finger and thumb and sending pangs of arousal south. "Don't know how hot you look. All wet, bending over, fuckin' _barefoot_. Been watching you through the window and goin' crazy." Sam scrapes teeth over Dean's ear and tightens his arms. His grip is concrete and possessive and brings heat to Dean's cheeks. He spreads his toes under the water streaming down on them and opens his eyes.  
  
It's a damn nice day. Scorching, but the birds are chirping and the Impala's clean and glittering in the sunlight spilling over them. Dean drops the hose and turns around. He meets Sam's smile, nearly fluorescent against his summer-baked skin. Sam runs a hand through his wet hair to get it out of his eyes before he tilts his head down and gives Dean a strong kiss, passes an inaudible endearment through Dean's mouth.  
  
When Sam pulls back, his eyes flick around Dean's face and another grin pulls his lips up. "Whoa," he says, "sun really brought them out huh?"  
  
"Brought what out?"  
  
"Your freckles dude. 's like they just exploded." Sam touches over his cheeks and nose with awed fingers.  
  
Dean's kinda embarrassed. "Ah, okay, should probably start drying the car—" he goes to pull back but Sam catches him around the waist.  
  
"No," Sam says, looking serious. He holds Dean's chin and makes Dean look at him. "No, listen to me. They're hot."  
  
"Hot?"  
  
"Mm. Sexy as hell." Sam kinda growls that last part, darting in to kiss Dean's cheek like he just can't hold himself back. From his cheek, Sam goes down, across Dean's chin and under. Dean's throat bobs under Sam's mouth and his jeans are uncomfortable now, his dick pressing into the zipper.  
  
"They're everywhere," Sam murmurs, pulling down Dean's shirt collar until some stitches snap. He licks the top of Dean's sternum then tries to pull the shirt down some more. Dean catches his wrist because he _likes_ this shirt damn it.  
  
Sam comes back up again and rocks against Dean's cock. "Wanna fuck you," he whispers, stops himself. "No wait, wanna tie you up. Find all those cute little spots." Another kiss and the sheer force of Sam has Dean stepping back into the Impala, almost falling over the hood. He balances a hand on its slippery surface and brings his other up to squeeze at Sam's nape, fingers sifting through sun-warm hair.  
  
" _Please_ ," Sam says again, voice cracking with urgency, touching Dean all over.  
  
Dean sighs. "Go turn the hose off." When Sam goes to do that Dean takes the opportunity to catch his breath, touching over his bitten lips. Worn out by some making out, Jesus. But that's just what Sam does to him on the reg. Kinda voracious roughness Dean's still getting used to, so it takes him by surprise every time.  
  
"I'll get to you later Baby," Dean says, patting the Impala's hood when he sees Sam coming back. Sam's wearing a lion's grin and his shoulders are shifting proudly like he's _already_ fucked Dean. "Maybe a lot later," Dean adds.  
  
Sam gets to him and pulls him away from the car. He bites the hinge of Dean's jaw then grabs under Dean's ass. "Jump up," he says.  
  
"You _want_ a herniated disc?" But Dean's already setting his hands on Sam's shoulders because yeah, Sam carrying him around like a sack of potatoes is a real turn-on. Dean found that out about himself when Sam fucked him against the wall last week.  
  
"I got you, c'mon." Sam braces himself and Dean launches himself up from Sam's shoulders. Sam catches him by his thighs and hauls him up. Dean barely gets time to secure his ankles above Sam's ass before his brother's turning and walking them through the front door.  
  
"You're gonna need a chiropractor," Dean warns, his words skipping because Sam's got his mouth on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The house is cooler, smells like lemonade and salt and deodorant starting to fail but it's theirs damn it. Days like this, Dean's happy that him and Sam went to California together.  
  
Sam brings him into their room and tips him onto the bed. He yanks Dean's shirt over his head, baring his sweat-slick skin and his tapestry of freckles.  
  
Dean sprawls and licks his lips, watches Sam bring the restraints out from under the bed. One of the best investments they've made, far as Dean and his dick are concerned.  
  
"You gotta work tonight?" Dean asks, holding a wrist out when Sam brings the straps up. Sam's job isn't like Dean's; doesn't get real days off, or engine grease under his fingernails that only cracks with Lava soap. Sam could get a call right now and have to go shower and make himself squeaky clean for a client. Dean's told him lawyer is just a high-brow term for educated hooker.  
  
Sam ties the soft black straps around his wrist and answers him with an expression that's downright salacious.  
  
"Oh," Dean chuckles, testing the give. "Gonna be that kinda night huh?"  
  
Sam hums lowly, moving to his other wrist. When that one's tied, he seems to take a special interest in Dean's hand, rubbing his fingertips over the back and spreading Dean's fingers out. "None here?" Sam asks, touching Dean's palm.  
  
"Probably one of the only places I don't got 'em. Wanna check my feet too?" Dean wiggles his toes.  
  
"I'll get there." Sam drags his fingers up the sensitive underside of Dean's forearm. Dean flexes under the ticklish sensation. Tied like this, his arms are spread out and Sam doesn't hesitate to tickle him under his armpits. "Fucker!" Dean yells after a burst of laughter, trying to twist away onto his side. Sam stops him by grabbing the waistband of his jeans and hushing an apology, but the expression on the bastard's face says he's anything but sorry.  
  
"Just try that again," Dean says, but he's still laughing and the threat goes flat.  
  
He lifts his hips so Sam can get his jeans and boxers down in a fell swoop. When they're off, Sam catches an ankle and pulls it wide. He does the strap tight, but his hands are gentle, if a little urgent. Dean relaxes into the bed as Sam moves to the other one. He's come to really appreciate this, especially since the first time he had a panic attack halfway through. Now, he likes it probably too much—giving himself over to his brother, letting Sam take care of him for a little bit, letting Sam wring the pleasure right outta him.  
  
Eyes only half-open, he watches Sam sit on his knees and take off his own shirt, torso twisting sinuously.  
  
Sam's damn impressive. Muscles on his muscles and all that. Dean doesn't know how that happened, since Sam was a lengthy chicken bone when he passed the bar. Dean's eyes follow his deep v-lines, like an arrow to the cock bulging Sam's jeans.  
  
Sam looks at Dean and strokes his ribs with too-hot, way-too-big hands. "Wow, Dean. Look at you."  
  
Dean looks at himself, at the freckles dotting every square inch of skin. They look like dirt specks. Dean can't really see the appeal. "I look like a lizard."  
  
Sam snorts. "Prettiest lizard I've ever seen."  
  
"Don't sweet talk me Sammy." Dean breathes softly as Sam's hands go up, palms over the stiff points of his nipples. Sam gets himself a little closer then ducks down to kiss the notch of Dean's throat, hair falling from behind his ears to tickle Dean's collar bones. He lays his cheek on Dean's chest and watches his fingers dance over the sandy spots.  
  
Dean closes his eyes and feels a bead of sweat trickle back into his hair. Sam is a soupy-warm weight over him, that dumb thatch of chest hair he's got crinkling in Dean's sternum but Dean can't move his lips to tell him to get off. Like the restraints, Sam's sasquatch-self is comforting in its own way.  
  
Sam lifts his head and his fingers move up Dean's throat to his chin. Dean accepts the kiss on his lips, but furrows his eyebrows at the tiny little pecks Sam starts sprinkling all over his face. "Can't get over it," he says between several kisses around Dean's eyebrow. "They're so cute."  
  
Dean groans.  
  
"Sexy," Sam corrects hurriedly. "Hot." Little kisses over the bridge of Dean's nose. "And they're everywhere." Sam slides a hand down, down, in between Dean's legs and squeezes his cock.  
  
Dean gives him a happy noise this time. "Mm," he moans empathically, tugging his wrists in their straps. "More like it."  
  
There's hot breath washing over Dean's ear. "But maybe we should start from the top," Sam whispers, letting him go.  
  
Dean shakes his head, pleading with his hips in little upthrusts, trying to get his dick engulfed in Sam's hand. "No, no, middle's good, I like middle—ah, _ah_!" Sam's biting his earlobe. When he traces the outer edges with his tongue, Dean arches so tight he's sure a herniated disc is now more his problem than Sam's.  
  
Fucking Sam. Knows all his sensitive spots and Dean doesn't know whether that's a good thing or a bad but fuck, Dean's rolling his hips under Sam and he could fucking lose it just from having his ear licked.  
  
Sam of course, repeats on the right side. Dean curls his fingers and his toes and breathes through his teeth so he doesn't start outright begging for Sam to get him off.  
  
From his ear, Sam kisses over his jaw and down his neck, fingers preceding his lips. "Got 'em here," Sam teases, swirling his thumbpad around a nipple. Dean's groin tightens and he squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation of Sam's tongue, but Sam just gives each of his nipples chaste kisses. Dean makes a discontent noise and Sam chuckles, moving down the center of Dean's stomach.  
  
"And here," Sam breathes, pulling at Dean's belly button with two fingers, dipping a fingertip inside, then his tongue. On hardly-touched skin, the feeling shoots tingles all over. When Sam lewdly starts flicking his tongue in and out, Dean flushes hot and squirms. The fucker's looking up at him as he does it, eyes so dark there's only thin rings of color around his pupils.  
  
Lower on his stomach, closer to his cock, Sam drags his lips over the thin line of hair there, follows it down enough that Dean's wet cockhead hits the underside of his chin. "Please Sam," Dean says, wishing his hands were free so he could grab at Sam's hair, or his own. "Please."  
  
But Sam, mouth so close to Dean's cock pubic hair kisses his lips, detours around his groin to start in on Dean's left thigh. Dean thumps his head back into the mattress. Sam examines his freckly knee, licks it, repeats the treatment on the other. He evades Dean's every, twisting effort to get his cock in his mouth.  
  
"You're killin' me," Dean groans as Sam kisses over his feet. "You licked me all over, okay? Can you let me come now before I have a coronary?"  
  
"Not _all_ over," Sam smirks. He's undoing Dean's ankle straps, and he looks as unflappable as ever. Only thing that gives him away is the dark red flush and the zipper eating his dick. He doesn't ask Dean to roll over; he does it for him, picking him up by the hips and tossing him onto his stomach. Dean's just getting his knees under him and some slack for his wrists when he feels the hot shock of Sam's tongue at the top of his spine. He stills, back arching in as the slick heat travels down between his shoulder blades.  
  
When Sam's at his tailbone, Dean's chest has dropped down to the bed. He turns his hot face into the sheets as he feels Sam's fingers on his ass, thumbs in the crease and palms spanning the cheeks. Sam says, "God," airless and gritty. He squeezes Dean's flesh. "You know you have so many here too? Wish you could see."  
  
Dean feels a thumb in his crease, swiping over his hole. Dean clenches around nothing and curls his fingers. The embers in his cheeks flare and glow as Sam kisses the lowest inch of his back, then puts his mouth low, too low.  
  
"Fuck." Dean almost pulls away, almost lets his hips drop down. Never been sober for this; always been drunk and foggy whenever Sam's tongue had wandered under his balls, always had giggled and let Sam lick him, sensations muted with alcohol. Now, he's very aware of it, and he thinks he should tell Sam to stop, but he says, "Sam, that's _nasty_ ," instead and he keeps his ass raised for it anyway.  
  
Sam reaches between his legs and cups his balls, just holding them in his heavy palm. His mouth is hot and soaking over Dean's hole, squirming and so strange and dirty Dean opens his eyes, disoriented.  
  
He listens to the sloppy noises of Sam eating him out, cock dripping, sweat sliding the wrong way down his inclined back. Rabbit-shudders start in when Sam's haphazard licking focuses on his hole, soft pressure again and again. Dean closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into his lip, urge to rip himself away and the urge to shove back into it has sounds of almost-protest leaving his throat.  
  
Sam's hand quests up and wraps around his cock, enfolds it in too much warmth. Dean tenses, spreading his legs wider. He twists his wrists in their straps and Sam's tongue gets more insistent, and he's jacking Dean in long, lazy pulls. Dean feels like prey, like something vulnerable, hanging off Sam's paw and begging to be eaten. He buries his face into sheets that smell like them and tells his body to relax.  
  
Sam's tongue wriggling past his body's barrier is lewd and obscene and fucking _dirty_. Dean chokes and cringes up, trying to draw in his arms around his head and getting held back by the restraints. Sam's hand on his cock drops away; it's used to spread his ass more instead, to the point where it stings and air touches him where Dean doesn't think it has before. Sam slips his tongue out of his hole and gives it tiny kisses and soothing licks, makes fire roar in Dean. He makes a useless sound in the sheets.  
  
"Oh, Dean, you're blushing all over," Sam tells him with a kiss at the top of his crack. His voice blends into the room like it's part of it.  
  
"They're here too, Dean." Sam licks the split of his ass and his taint. The unbearable spread eases and Dean feels Sam's hand around his dick again, hears Sam move. His fingers find Dean's hole and ease in.  
  
" _Ah_ ," Dean gasps; they're substantial, they're filling. Dean tightens around them and moans in gratitude. His spine is starting to ache from its bend, so he carefully moves onto his back, not dislodging Sam's fingers or hand on his dick.  
  
"Fuck me?" Dean inquires, thrusting up-down into Sam's touch.  
  
Sam licks his lips and gives Dean a slow once-over, then a smile. "I'm glad you rolled over, 'cause there's one last place I haven't licked."  
  
Dean's hips jump at that. "You're killin' me," he groans. He closes his eyes from the sunlight that's decided to poke through the blinds, smiles when he feels Sam's lips just below his navel. "These are my favorite," Sam says, fingers caressing along Dean's dick.  
  
Considering that part doesn't get much sun, Dean knows they're just lightly sprinkled around the sides, pinpricks of cinnamon. He feels Sam's lips under the head and almost shouts, heels dug into the bed as he tries to push his cock into a mouth he knows is silky-wet and warm. Sam wraps his hand around him and squeezes. "Don't move."  
  
Dean whines. "Please."  
  
Sam's tongue traces around his dick, just the teasing tip, so good and horrible Dean gnashes his teeth. "You know you're not coming till I get inside you," Sam breathes on him. Dean could cry. Sweat is trickling down his calves and he aches. But Dean cleans his upper lip and nods—he won't, he'll be good.  
  
Twisting his wrists in the restraints, Dean tries to breathe through the mindmelting feeling of Sam closing his lips over his cock, bathing him in soft warmth. When Sam's halfway down, other half covered by his hand, Dean can't keep the sob of goodtoogood down. He trembles as he tries to keep still, toes curling in.  
  
It doesn't take long for Sam to ratchet up the need for release; he had Dean toeing the edge before, but now he's got him dangling there. "Fuck," Dean keens, turning his face into his shoulder, fighting every screaming instinct to just start fucking Sam's mouth. He makes a huge mistake looking down his body because he meets Sam's eyes, dark under his brows and gleaming knowingly. Sam takes his hand away, holds Dean's hips flat, and gulps the rest of his dick down.  
  
Dean cries out, jerking his arms against the straps, eyes turning back into his head. "God! You, you—" _aren't supposed to be able to do that, how the hell did you learn to do that_ , and Dean thinks of him practicing on the popsicle and he's holding on now by a pinkie nail, sobbing with tears and sweat stinging his eyes.  
  
He thinks Sam might be laughing. Feels like it. Dean can't take it. He lifts his head as much as possible and says urgently, "Sammy, hurry up, hurry up, 'm gonna fucking lose it, hurry up, Sam _please_ —"  
  
Sam pops his mouth off his cock. The air that gusts over the slick skin is torture all on its own. "I got you, Dean," Sam says, leaning over him. Dean accepts his kiss and listens to Sam rummaging around in the nightstand drawer, ass clenching in anticipation. When Sam has the lube he parts from Dean, settles between his legs, which Dean spreads until his muscles protest.  
  
Dean blinks rapidly to get the blurriness out of his vision, so he can watch Sam take himself out, coat his cock in lube. "Yeah," he encourages.  
  
"Yeah," Sam echoes, moving in closer. He puts a hand in the back of Dean's knee and pushes it till his kneecap's nearly touching his nipple. Tilts his ass up enough for Sam's lubed fingers, and they slot in smoothly.  
  
"'s good enough," Dean says, instinctively pushing into the digits. Sam taps his prostate a few times (just to be a dick apparently) then slides them out, takes a hold of his dick again. He hums as he moves the head over Dean's taint, just rubbing it there.  
  
"Don't be an asshole," Dean growls.  
  
"Say it," Sam sings, letting his dick kiss Dean's hole, trace the rim, driving Dean crazy.  
  
"Sam," Dean warns.  
  
"'m not fucking you till you say it. I can wait all night."  
  
He can't, but he can outlast Dean, he's proven that a few times. "You're such a bitch." Dean closes his eyes and huffs. He decides he doesn't want to risk his balls imploding, and pride has nothing on an orgasm, so he clears his throat and says, "Please fuck me."  
  
"The whole thing, Dean."  
  
"Dick! Fuck, okay—please fuck my ass."  
  
Sam tsks, putting pressure at Dean's hole. "Please fuck my ass, _Sam_."  
  
Dean snarls. "Please fuck my ass, Sa— _amm_!" The name gets broken up and wailed as Sam thrusts forward, cock pouring in and filling Dean right up. Dean groans deep in satisfaction, tightening his ass around the thickness indulgently.  
  
"Fuck," Sam chokes, his lube-slick hand slipsliding over Dean's flank. Dean gets his thigh out of his hold and slings it over Sam's shoulder, brings the other one up too. When Sam leans over him, he bends Dean in half.  
  
Dean catches Sam's lips, bites them as Sam starts to thrust, long hard strokes in and out. It takes four of those for Dean to come; he explodes all over both their bellies, yell lost in Sam's mouth. Sam pounds him through it, and he's almost crushing Dean in the best way. Dean goes slack, his legs falling over Sam's forearms, head turning into the sheets so Sam has to kiss his cheek instead, the cluster of freckles there.  
  
"Dean," Sam groans when he comes, so deep in his lungs Dean feels it vibrate through his whole body. His thrusts turn lazy after, little movements that still manage to get Dean just right.  
  
Dean's still trying to catch his breath when Sam lets his softened cock slip out and rolls off him. The come he spilt in him starts tickling as it leaks out and that always gets Dean's cheeks burning.  
  
A few moments later Dean licks his lips and flexes his wrists. "You gotta untie me, Sammy. Gotta go rinse those spots off Baby."  
  
Sam turns his head and peers at him. "Please. Like you can even walk." Looking like he's got the canary between his teeth, Sam turns onto his side and edges a nail over the freckles leading in to Dean's nipple. "I have like, six more ways I want to fuck you tonight."  
  
Fuck. Who knew freckles could be an aphrodisiac?


End file.
